Drabbles
by creativetherapy
Summary: A bunch of drabble written surrounding my Reid/ Avery arc. Just for fun. Ratings may change.
1. Chapter 1

I am beginning this as an ongoing repository for scenes that either didn't make the cut on my previous works, or scenes I had ideas for, but did not warrant larger works surrounding them.

The chapters are written as vignettes, with no over-arching theme or goal, and outside the typical story structure in which I write. They are almost exclusively drabble and fluff, so if that's your bag, I hope you enjoy this.

I'm taking a break from writing longer works and just sort of enjoying scribbling down these brief scenes, so if there's something you'd like to see within the arc I've established (and may eventually continue) in my previous CM works, please let me know.

Congratulations, you've reached the end of the forward. Thanks for reading.


	2. Doctor Charming

Characters: Avery

Time: A few days after the end of "Coincidence"

*************************************************8

"Is he cute?"

Avery thought about the question, a smile slowly spreading across her face.

"Yeah." She said, picturing the young agent's features. She looked at her laptop screen, where her best friend Megan sat projected from 1,000 miles away via Skype.

"And he's smart." Avery added quickly. "Really, _really_ smart."

"I say go for it." Megan took a sip of wine.

"You don't think it's weird?" Avery followed suit, pouring herself another glass of the white sitting next to her laptop.

"Everyone's weird." Megan rationalized. "So it all works out."

"I know, but..." Avery began.

"You're asking if you should see him again." Megan interjected. "Christ, it's not like you're marrying the guy."

Avery raised her eyebrows, tilting her head in concession.

"Besides, anybody who brings you Chinese food and can stand to sit and listen to you yammer on about the cultural significance of textile design has to be worth at least dinner."

"We'll see if he even calls." Avery said nonchalantly, glancing at her phone.

"You're having this crisis and he hasn't even called you?" Megan shook her head. "You like him, Avery Mitchell, whether you realize it or not."

There was a moment of silence as Megan studied Avery's face, deciding whether or not to change the subject.

"How're you doing, otherwise?" She said, her brow furrowing sympathetically, afraid to be too specific.

"I'm okay." Avery answered, suddenly sounding tired.

"I'm sorry I couldn't come out for the funeral." Megan apologized sincerely. "Your mom was a wonderful human being."

Avery nodded, her eyes misting. She sighed heavily. "I miss her."

"I know, Sweetie."

A loud crash somewhere on her side of the computer grabbed Megan's attention.

"That sounds like Jake needs help getting the boys down to bed." She said, looking guilty. "And now you're sad and I'm a jerk."

Avery shook her head. "No, it's fine. Go ahead."

"Are you sure?"

Avery nodded. "Give the kids a hug for me."

"Okay... Just... keep thinking about Doctor Charming." She said, rushing to make her friend smile before ending the video call. "And let me know when he calls."

Avery scoffed. "G'night." She said good-naturedly, ending the call.


	3. First Dates

"This is a nice place." Avery said, sitting down and looking around at the little bistro. "I've never been here before."

"It's..." Spencer started, realizing he had no idea what to say "nice." he finished lamely.

Avery nodded, tapping a finger on the table as an awkward silence fell between them. Spencer fidgeted in his seat.

"You seem nervous." She said empathetically, smiling gently.

Spencer nodded, "I'm not exactly... used to this." He tried to laugh his inexperience off, with little success. "You?"

Avery grinned, relieved she wasn't the only one with nerves. Spencer smiled, despite himself.

"It's been a while since I've been on a first date." She admitted.

"I'm not sure what you're supposed to talk about." He remarked, her admission making him feel less self-conscious.

"Um.." Avery thought, holding up her hands and counting a list off on her fingers. "Well, usually, you'd talk about what you do, and I'd talk about what I do, where we went to school... but we've already covered that. Then there's... favorite movies. Favorite shows. Favorite books. Art."

"Also covered." Spencer nodded.

"Favorite music?" She suggested.

"You like Marcel Mouloudji." The young doctor recalled.

"Right, and you collect vinyl." She grinned and shrugged. "That's it, that's all I've got. We've covered all first-date-approved topics."

"Are we moving too fast if we skip to second-date topics?" Spencer suggested, far more at ease.

"Well, I think this kind of counts as a second date." Avery said. "I mean, with dinner the other night."

"And the movie when we met." He said.

"Did that count?" She asked in mock seriousness. Spencer nodded.

"I think it did." He said gravely.

"Well, excellent." The woman said decidedly. "So we are officially past the awkward first date dinner, which means..."

"We don't have to sit here and make polite small talk while we push food around on our plates that neither of us is really hungry for in the first place." Spencer finished

"You wanna go for a walk?"

"The park is nice this time of year." Spencer suggested.

The two stood, turning and heading toward the exit.

"Oh, you know what I got in the mail today?" Avery remembered as Spencer held the door for her. "The Life and Career of William Hartnell."

"You haven't read it?" He sounded surprised. "You'll like it. It's really well researched. You know his granddaughter wrote it."

"That's what I read." Avery nodded as they disappeared through the doors, walking comfortably down the street in the direction of the park as they talked. Third dates were so much easier than first.


	4. Christmas

_"When are you leaving?"_

 _"In a few hours."_

 _"Holidays are often the hardest after a loved one passes, especially the first year. Are you sure you don't want me to come?"_

 _"You're sweet to offer, but no. I'm just staying the night, anyway. I'll be back tomorrow night. We can spend Boxing Day together."_

 _"Are you sure?"_

 _"Yeah. Have fun with the team. Merry Christmas."_

 _"Merry Christmas."_

The conversation replayed in Avery's mind as she rode the train back into the city. The last 30 hours, spent with her father in the home he had recently closed on, was harder than she had anticipated. She missed Christmas in the home she had grown up in. She missed her mother.

And she missed Spencer. She wished she had made plans to see him. She pictured him sitting around the table with J.J and her family, entertaining J.J's little boy with magic tricks. The contrast of her Christmas against how she imagined his left her lonely, hollow, and emotionally drained.

She looked at her phone, rereading the last few texts.

Merry Christmas. Holding up?

Doing alright. Leaving now. Say hi to JJ for me.

The walk from the station to her apartment was cold. Businesses were closed for the holiday and the streets were quiet. The streets were wet and slushy with the remnants of the snow that had fallen a few days before.

She fished her keys from her pocket, flipping through them with chilly fingers to find the one to the main entrance of the building.

"Avery!"

She looked up at the sound of her name. Spencer approached on the sidewalk, his wool coat open. His curls rustled in the frosty breeze as he neared her.

Avery stood, frozen in place.

"I thought you were spending Christmas with J.J and Will." She said finally.

Spencer nodded. "I did. I left early."

Avery stared at the man standing in front of her, unsure whether to laugh or cry.

"How are you doing?" Spencer asked, sympathy and concern written in his expression.

Words failed. Thoughts failed. Soundlessly, Avery reached out, wrapping her arms around Spencer's chest and falling into him. He wrapped his arms around her lovingly. She closed her eyes, feeling the wool coat against her cheek, listening to his heart beating faintly. He was warm, she realized. And he smelled nice. The day seemed to slip away from her as she stood there, wrapped up in him, sheltered from the cold.

Spencer said nothing for some time, seeming to understand the need for simple closeness.

"Is there anything I can do?" He asked quietly after a while.

Avery heaved a sigh. "I want to go upstairs. I want to get into my pajamas. I want to sit on the couch and turn off my brain and not move until New Year's."

"Do you want company?" Spencer asked at length.

There was a moment of silence.

"Yeah." She muttered finally. "Thank you."

She let go of Spencer, who took her overnight bag for her while she unlocked the door to the building. Together, they went inside.


	5. First Kiss

A "part b" to the chapter First Dates. I realized I had never written a first kiss scene for Avery/ Spencer, and wanted to take a crack at it.

* * *

The breeze picked up in the late evening, sending leaves scudding in clumsy cartwheels down the street, in and out of the reach of the streetlights. Spencer and Avery walked slowly next to each other, having exhausted the park and moved on to wandering the streets of the city.

"It's getting late." Avery remarked casually, glancing at her watch. "We've been walking a while."

"Yeah, I guess so." Spencer sounded surprised as he checked his own watch.

"Just as well, I guess. We're getting close to my place." She said.

A half-awkward silence settled between them for a moment as they continued down the street.

"I had a really nice time." Avery glanced up at the man walking beside her, clutching a travel cup of coffee, his other hand in his pocket. He smiled.

"I did, too..." He looked down at her. "Thank you." He said sincerely.

"For what?" She sipped from her own to-go cup of tea.

"For agreeing to go out with me." He said, as though stating the obvious.

"It wasn't a favor." She laughed. He looked back down to his cup. Avery bit her lip. "To be honest," she admitted candidly, "After the other night, I was really hoping you'd call."

"I'm really glad I did." Spencer laughed quietly, not sure what to say, but feeling he should say something.

"And, in the spirit of honesty," Avery continued, a slight edge of nervousness in her voice "I'm really hoping you'll call me again."

Spencer smiled, licking his lips to say something, but succeeding only in smiling more.

"I - I think I will." He finally stammered.

Avery smiled, nodding in the direction of a large apartment building. "This is me."

They reached the front step and stopped, standing close to each other under the narrow stone eave outside the door. Silence once again fell between them, Avery seeming to wait for something and Spencer suddenly very aware of himself.

"Um...Hm" He cleared his throat. "In keeping with the theme of honesty," he swallowed. "I'm not really sure how third dates are supposed to end."

Avery stifled a laugh, her face flushing.

"Um," She began "Well, I think that depends... on a bunch of things, but..." She took a breath, looking up at him earnestly. "I think, in this case... maybe something like this?"

She took a step closer, reaching her face and softly touching her lips against his.

Spencer kissed back. The feeling was electric, crinkling over every inch of skin. His hand instinctively grazed along the back of her neck while hers slid around his waist and up his back. The touch was light, but kept them each rooted in place. It was as though the kiss itself was gravitational, each of them pulled into it, molten cores spinning.

Time fell away. The streetlights, the people passing on the sidewalk, the sound of leaves rustling in the trees and falling to the ground all disappeared into an eternity that lasted only a few moments.

Avery broke the kiss first, stepping back with a heavy breath, her face still flushed. Spencer exhaled sharply and cleared his throat. Each tried to find something to say. Each failed.

"uh, G-goodnight." Spencer offered, his voice cracking.

Avery nodded, swallowing hard, taking a step back and reaching for the door handle of the building, her eyes fixed on him "Goodnight."


	6. Late Dinner

Time: Some time after Way Out

Spencer trudged up the steps to his apartment, his satchel slung over his shoulder and his go-bag at his side. The halls were quiet. The entire building seemed asleep. Nothing but the smell of food wafting from one of the apartments betrayed any sign of life. His stomach knotted, and he looked at his watch. It was late. Too late to call Avery for a late dinner. A pang of guilt about canceling their plans again mixed with the pangs of hunger.

The doctor reached his door and felt for the keys in his pocket. He yawned as the lock clicked in the casing and he turned the door handle, seeing nothing but cold leftovers and an empty bed awaiting him. Details of the case rattled in his mind, refusing to be left behind with the paperwork.

The door swung open and Spencer stood, struck dumb for a moment by the warm smell of food that enveloped him and the sight of lights on in the apartment. Across the room, propped on the back of the couch, was a small white note, neatly folded and clearly waiting for him. Spencer closed the door behind him and dropped his bag, crossing the room and reaching for the note as he laid his satchel on the couch cushion.

Avery's neat, slanted script greeted him.

 _Welcome home._

Spencer looked up. Avery stood leaning against the door frame leading to the eat-in kitchen. She was dressed in a simple tank top and loose cotton pajama pants, and looked ready for a comfortable night in.

"I used my key." She preempted his question. "And since I know you don't eat on the jet, I figured you'd be hungry."

She met him at the edge of the couch, wrapping her arms around him. "Little known fact: I can cook. Don't tell anyone."

"I won't." Spencer replied quietly, an edge of confusion in his voice.

Avery smiled, standing on her toes to kiss him. He obliged willingly. She pulled away, turning to leave the room. Spencer caught her hand.

"Avery, why – why did you do all this?"

He was afraid the question sounded unappreciative. Years of taking care of himself had left him unprepared for anything else.

Avery tilted her head, considering him more than the question. She shrugged.

"Because I missed you?" She said simply. "Because you work too hard, and you deserve to relax."

Spencer took a moment to register her answers.

"So," Avery continued. "Dirty Harry, Doctor Who, or a Documentary I found on the genetic manipulation of plants and livestock dating back to early farming practices? Your choice."

Spencer smiled. He couldn't help it. His hand tightened around hers and he pulled her close. His arms closed around her as he kissed her. She kissed back; gentle and warm and familiar. Blissfully removed from the cases, the death and the pain. She kissed him the way rain kisses the sun-scorched earth, washing the dust away and breathing new life into the air.

Dinner could wait.


	7. Doubt

A deleted scene from Aesop, taking place between Rescue and the Epilogue.

* * *

"How is she? Is she okay?" Penelope Garcia bustled down the hallway of the hospital, heels clicking on the linoleum floor, worry spanning every inch of her expression.

"She's resting." Spencer nodded as he stood outside the door to Avery's room, finding himself unable to follow her advice to get some sleep.

"How are you?" Garcia asked.

The agent's mouth tensed, and he looked down. Despite the relief, the past, with all its guilt and sadness, had begun to creep in.

"You can't blame yourself, Reid." Penelope offered.

"Like 'ell he can't!"

The thick Manchester accent interrupted the pair and they turned to see a stout man in his sixties standing in the middle of the hall.

"Mr. Mitchell -" Spencer began.

"I knew I was right not to trust you." Geoffrey Mitchell snapped gruffly. "She coulda been killed 'cause of you."

"Mr. Mitchell, Avery's resting. She's going to be fine." Spencer said quickly.

"By whose definition?" The older man retorted scornfully. "I'm goin' to see my daughter."

"She should rest." Spencer shifted to the side, ever so slightly blocking Geoffrey Mitchell's way. The man picked up the motion, stopping in his tracks.

"You goin' to stop me?" He growled.

"Sir," Garcia began quietly. Geoffrey Mitchell looked at her sharply.

"Who are you?" Mr. Mitchell demanded.

"I'm..." Garcia took a breath. "Penelope Garcia. I'm a friend of Avery's... and Reid's. And I think you're being unfair." She looked surprised by her own boldness.

"Unfair?" Mitchell scoffed indignantly. "That's my little girl in there. Lyin' in that hospital bed. Because of you." He glared at Spencer, who avoided his gaze.

" _I_ sat up with her when she was sick. _I_ kept her safe." He continued.

"Mr. Mitchell, you know I want Avery to be safe -" The young man began meekly.

"Then stay away from her." Geoffrey spat. "You're just as like to kill her as not."

Reid barely registered the thud against his shoulder as Geoffrey Mitchell shoved past him into Avery's room.

Penelope breathed a sharp sigh of relief.

"Avery's dad is British..." She said, slightly surprised. "And maaad."

"No, but he's right." Spencer's voice broke. He swallowed, trying to clear the lump from his throat.

"Oh, no, Reid," Her voice was almost pleading. "No, he's not. You... you can't go down that road."

He said nothing, instead turning on his heel and walking briskly in the opposite direction, leaving Garcia standing alone outside Avery's hospital room.

* * *

Spencer sat silently in the cold plastic chair. The hospital cafeteria was nearly empty at this hour. Still, he had opted for a remote corner, shielded on three sides by half-walls topped with potted plants.

The cup of coffee in front of him remained untouched. He stared, seeing nothing, volleying between forcing himself not to think and forcing himself not to feel, unable to find a satisfactory combination of both.

He was only vaguely aware of the black suited figure who approached him, standing next to the empty seat on the opposite side of the table.

"Mind if I sit?" Aaron Hotchner asked. The younger agent glanced up at him momentarily in answer. Hotchner sat, fixing Reid with a stoic look and waiting a moment for him to speak first. He didn't.

"Garcia called me at the office." Hotchner said casually.

Nothing.

"Avery's alive because of you." He said.

"She almost died because of me." Reid answered quietly, his voice weak and broken, as though he had been crying, or trying not to cry, for a while.

"Because of Weston." Hotchner corrected. "Not you." He leaned in. "You saved her life."

"But I couldn't save Maeve." He looked up at Hotchner, only just seeing him. His expression was a miserable mix of regret and heartbreak, exhaustion and guilt. "And... And I see Avery lying there, and I just remember..." He trailed off.

"I wish I could tell you that the regret goes away." Hotchner began slowly. "But I think you just come to live with it."

"It still hurts."

"Yeah." Hotchner agreed, his own thoughts growing distant.

The men sat in silence a moment, an unspoken solidarity between them.

"Avery got a job offer in London." Spencer admitted after some time. "I saw a letter at her apartment two weeks ago. The British Museum wants her for restoration work."

Hotchner listened, saying nothing.

"She'd do well," Reid rationalized to himself "in London... She'd be safe."

"Does she want to go?" Hotchner asked.

"She hasn't mentioned it." Spencer said. "I only saw the letter by accident."

Aaron Hotchner thought a moment.

"Avery Mitchell has always struck me as a woman who knows her own mind." He stood, buttoning his suit coat. "If she hasn't said anything about it... I think you have your answer." He looked down at the man who still sat staring at a now cold cup of coffee.

"Grief isn't penance, Reid. Don't let it rule you."

He walked away, leaving Spencer alone with his thoughts.

* * *

The light rap at the door frame started Penelope Garcia, and she tip-toed across the floor, pulling aside the privacy curtain to see Spencer standing in the doorway. Reid looked over her shoulder, glancing around the room.

"It's okay, angry British dad is gone." She half-whispered.

"Avery says he's been like that since Pamela died." He explained.

"He is not in your fan club." Garcia remarked. Her expression turned serious. "How are you?"

"Better." Spencer nodded. "Thanks for staying with her."

"Oh, hey," Garcia shrugged off the thanks "it's what I do. I would have brought her flowers if I'd known her favorite kind."

"Blue orchids." He answered without thinking.

"Right." Garcia made a mental note. "Well, I'll, uh... I'll leave you two."

"Thanks again." Spencer said quietly as she scooted from the room, leaving him alone with the sleeping woman.

He crossed the room quietly, pulling the chair close to the side of the bed. He sat in it, elbows on the side of the bed, knuckles grazing his lips as Aaron Hotchner's words rang in his head. Slowly, exhaustion crept in, displacing guilt and doubt, and sleep settled the poor agent's weary mind.


	8. Near Miss

Time: A few weeks after the end of Aesop.

It's established in Stranger than Fiction that Avery and Spencer live together, but it could very easily have gone the other direction. Toying with complexity of coping after a trauma.

* * *

"Hey, it's me!" Spencer called as entered Avery's apartment, closing the door behind him. The tidy entryway was quiet. Sunlight streamed through the sheer curtains in the living room at the end of the short hall. "Avery? You left early this morning... thought I'd come by-"

A noise to his left told him Avery was in the kitchen. Quietly, he pushed open the narrow swinging door, in time to see Avery, whose back was turned, quickly sniffle and wipe her eyes.

"Hi." It was jarring how convincing her smile could be.

"You okay?" Spencer asked

"Fine." She replied briskly, clearing her throat.

"It's okay if you're not." He assured. "It's only been a few weeks."

Avery chuckled, as though the passage of time surprised her.

"It's like it didn't happen." She looked at him, thin cracks showing themselves in her nonchalant veneer. "I don't remember most of it, and what I do remember... It's like it's some kind of bad dream."

"You've been seeing the psychologist?"

Avery nodded. "She keeps wanting me to talk about it... there's not much to say." She breathed an unsteady breath. "I never talked to him... I never even saw him, just..."

She shook her head, resuming her careless facade.

"On your way in to work?" She asked, turning back to the counter and opening a cabinet in front of her. "Cup of coffee to go?"

Spencer watched her, his heart breaking, the doubt he had worked to keep buried the past weeks once again resurfacing.

"You could still go to London." He said quietly. Avery's head snapped toward him. She stared at him with a look of blank shock on her face. He gazed at her plaintively. "Were you ever going to tell me?"

She swallowed. "I hadn't decided."

The tone of the room had changed. Despite its small size, Spencer felt, there suddenly existed an incredible distance between them.

"You could." He told her blankly. "You've seen what this job does."

"Spence," Avery's voice was barely more than a whisper. "please, don't."

"This is a great opportunity." He insisted rationally.

"You want me to go?" She asked, stricken.

"I want you to be safe." He corrected. "And I don't want you to live afraid of what might happen if you stay. You deserve that much."

"I'm not afraid." She told him, her voice gaining a determined edge.

"Can you honestly tell me you don't have doubts about staying here?" He asked.

Avery balked at the question, unsure of how exactly to answer. She opened her mouth, then shut it, her eyes unconsciously changing focus from his face to his neck, where, behind the collar of his button up shirt, evidence of the danger of Spencer's job and the reason for Avery's expertly hidden worry marred his flesh.

"You looked at my scar." He observed. "You do that when you're anxious about our future."

"Don't profile me." She told him, fixing him with a steely look.

"Can you tell me -" Spencer began again

"Yes, Spence, I have doubts!" She confessed, her body tensing in frustration. "Of course I have doubts! But I'm not going to leave the country because of them."

"I want you to be happy." Spencer insisted. "I think London would make you happy."

Avery's eyes darted around the room like a caged animal's; first to Spencer, then away, then ever so briefly back to the scar on his neck, before realizing they were there and glancing away again. She leaned her back against the counter, holding the edge with her palms.

"You should get to work." She said at length in a calm, quiet voice, refusing to look at him. "You'll be late."

"Avery -" Spencer began.

"I want you to go." She said, still looking away, an edge hiding under the surface of her calm tone.

Spencer nodded, swallowing as he backed out of the kitchen. He blinked hard in the hallway, wishing away the sunken, broken feeling filling him. He pressed hard on his eyelids, took a breath to steady himself, and walked away.

* * *

His apartment seemed empty and lifeless when Spencer arrived home after work. It felt hollow, like him. He didn't usually prefer days at his desk, catching up on paperwork, but today it had been a blessed distraction. He suspected, perhaps, some of the others had noticed he worked at a slower pace, but nobody had said anything, for once, and to his great relief.

He gazed around the room listlessly, as though uncertain of what to do once there. He settled his satchel onto the couch, dropping down next to it.

A knock at the door roused him. He waited, listening, hoping whoever was there would go away.

"Spence?" Avery's voice called out quietly. "Are you in?"

He rose quickly and opened the door. Avery stood at the door frame, void of her cavalier facade. Her face was swollen and her eyes were red. To Spencer, it felt as though the pieces of his heart were further crushed.

"Can I come in?" She asked. He opened the door for her and she slipped into the room.

"Avery, I -" Spencer began, but Avery turned to face him, the determined expression on her tear-stained face silencing him.

"I don't blame you, Spencer." She said abruptly. "It wasn't your fault. Any of it, do you understand me?"

Spencer nodded.

"And as far as my safety and happiness," Avery took a breath. "I'm an adult and I decide that for myself. You don't get to make that choice for me."

"Okay." He agreed quietly.

She looked at him, biting the inside of her lower lip to keep it from quivering as she prepared herself for what she said next.

"So," her voice shook. "If you want me to go to London because... because you don't want to be together, or... or because you're not happy... then tell me. But at least be honest."

She watched him pleadingly, terrified of his answer but desperately needing to hear it.

"Do you want me to go, or not?" She asked.

Spencer shook his head.

"I don't want you to go." He admitted, feeling his throat tighten and his eyes well.

"I don't want to go, either." Avery said through the tears she could no longer hold back.

Spencer crossed the room to her in two quick strides, embracing her tightly.

"I'm sorry." He muttered into her shoulder.

"Me, too." She said, clinging to him.

He straightened and looked at her. She swept the tears from her face. He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

" _You_ make me happy, Spencer Reid." She said sincerely, her arms tightening around him. "Don't ever doubt that."

* * *

Spencer lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, his arm wrapped around Avery, who lay sleeping next to him, her arm curled over his chest. He looked down at her. The world seemed right, again. The emptiness he had felt only hours before had already faded. "This" he thought, "is how it's supposed to be."

"Hey." He said gently, moving his arm just enough to nudge her.

"Hmm?" She murmured without opening her eyes.

He nudged her again. She opened her eyes, resting her chin on his chest as she looked at him.

"What's wrong?" She asked blearily.

"If living in London wouldn't make you happy..." Spencer began "what about living here?" He added quickly "With me."

Avery's brow furrowed and she narrowed her eyes. "Are you... asking me to move in with you?" She asked uncertainly, wondering if she understood him correctly or was still half-asleep.

"I am." He looked at her earnestly. "I don't want to keep push you away because I'm afraid."

Avery sat up, considering him and the question intensely.

"Are you sure?" She asked seriously as he sat up.

"Would you?" He asked, matching her tone.

She stared at him a moment, her eyes locked with his, never trailing to the exposed scar on his neck.

"Yes."


	9. Breathless

I debated writing something like this for the end of Way Out. Ultimately I decided it wasn't really necessary for the story. I debated whether or not to include it here, but figured I'd go for it. I originally had this rated M, but after thinking about it, I'm not sure that's _really_ necessary.

* * *

 _(Final excerpt from Way Out.)_

" _I love you, too." She whispered. Even with his eyes closed, he could tell she was smiling. He could feel it, as though her smile were part of him. He smiled broadly in relief and surrender, pulling her closer and trailing his fingertips through the short hair behind her ear._

" _It's getting late." She murmured._

" _Stay." He said. "Stay with me tonight."_

 _He kissed her again._

* * *

Spencer pulled away, breathing hard, his eyes closed as he rested his forehead against hers. He held her tightly to him, as though knowing what he wanted to do but unsure of continuing.

"Hey," Avery whispered. She ran her fingers through his hair, tracing her fingertips delicately along the back of his neck. "It's okay." She assured. "It's-"

She couldn't finish, as he once again kissed her passionately. Desperately. Months of hidden emotion, denied lust, poured into it as though somewhere inside him a dam had broken. The intensity of it took her off guard and stole her breath.

His hand wandered to her hip, slipping under the blouse she wore and trailing along the soft skin of her hip. She breathed a shallow sigh. Spencer thrilled at the sound and took it as encouragement. Her fingers moved to loosen his tie while his body pressed against hers, guiding her backward through the door and toward the bedroom as she tugged at his shirt and fumbled with the buttons.

Avery's fingers felt cold, her hands tingled, her core boiling frenetically. Whereas anticipation made her hands clumsy, it had the opposite effect on the lanky doctor. A low moan escaped her as his lips grazed along her neck, his fingers slipping the blouse from her shoulders before helping her remove his own shirt.

His hands, long and slender, were surprisingly strong, and even more surprisingly assertive as they moved along her body, keeping her close, seemingly guided by a plan months in the making.

"Spencer," she muttered breathlessly, pleadingly, warm against his neck.

Nobody had ever said his name in that way before. He liked it. His spine surged as though electrically charged as her fingers traced thin lines down it and along the line of his belt.

The back of her leg brushed against the edge of the bed.

"I love you." He repeated as she trailed fevered kisses across his collarbone.

"I love you, too." She assured him again, an excited frustration building in her as he slowed, his enthusiasm once again reined in by doubt. His fingertips trailed gently up her side, grazing over the thin lace of her bra and up to her shoulder. She closed her eyes, melting into the feeling of his hands touching her that way. Her skin, hypersensitive to his touch, prickled and chilled in excitement.

"Are you cold?" He asked in quiet concern, his fingers tracing along her neck. She smiled, shaking her head only slightly and pressing herself closer to him.

"No." She whispered, her eyes still closed, drinking in the feeling as she explained the goosebumps sweeping over her in waves."It's you."

Never in his life had Spencer Reid seen himself as the kind of man who could give a woman goosebumps.

"Is this okay?"

She opened her eyes to meet his, studying her with desire hampered by concern.

She reached up, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him to her, kissing him as though the world were ending.

He replied in kind, and together they tumbled back, losing themselves in each other; uncertainty and trepidation uncoiling and melting away, replaced by new, wholly consuming sensations.


	10. writer's block

I've been wanting to write but have had complete writer's block lately, so I want to do some reader suggested one-shots. Anything you want to read? Please let me know. I need a prompt.


	11. Babies

_TAKES PLACE SHORTLY BEFORE THEIR FIRST CHRISTMAS AS A COUPLE_

* * *

"Find anything?" Spencer asked.

Avery looked up from the book she was holding to see Spencer waiting, one hand in his jacket pocket and the other curled around a book.

"Russian history." She said, closing the volume. "You?"

"Brief History of Time." He said, holding up the book.

Avery gave him a puzzled look.

"You've already got a copy."

"It's not for me." Spencer corrected. "No, it's for Henry. For Christmas."

"You can't get him that." Avery chuckled.

"Oh..." Spencer glanced down at the volume in his hand. "Why not? I loved it as a kid."

"Of course you did." Avery took the book gently from him, brushing past him and down the aisles of books, leading him back into the crowded shop toward the young reader's section.

"Kids books?" Spencer asked skeptically. "You don't think they're kind of... pandering?"

"To you, perhaps, Doctor Reid."

Spencer blushed at the name. She only called him doctor when she teased him.

"But he's not you." She trailed her finger along the edge of the shelf in front of her, scanning the titles. "He's a little boy. He likes...video games and Saturday morning cartoons, and... aha."

She pulled a brightly colored book from the shelf and handed it to her boyfriend.

"And grossing out his mum."

"Hands-on Grossology?" Spencer's brow furrowed. "What-"

"Science for kids." Avery assured.

"Science isn't gross." Spencer countered.

Avery gave him a doubtful look.

"I mean, there are some facets-" He amended.

"Henry's not you." She interrupted. "I know you want him to grow up and be brilliant, and he will. But there's time for him to be a kid, too."

Spencer considered her words as he looked at the title.

Avery shrugged. "I mean, if it were - " She stopped abruptly.

Spencer looked up. "What?"

"Nothing." She said quickly, her eyes wide.

"What?" He asked again.

"No, nothing." Avery repeated, shaking her head. "It was...weird." she added lamely.

"You were going to say "if it were our kid." Spencer finished her thought.

Avery jammed her eyes shut and turned away from him, her face flushing in embarrassment.

"Yeah." She admitted, fidgeting. "Slip of the tongue. Sorry. Really, _really_ sorry."

"Why?" The young doctor asked, grinning.

Avery looked confused, her mouth suddenly dry.

"I - I mean, I just... we've only been dating, like... two months?" She said. "You don't think -"

Spencer shrugged "There are arguments that evolutionarily speaking, dating is a way to seek out and establish an ideal mate. Finding someone with similar goals and mores is programmed into us, not just for interpersonal closeness, but at it's basest root, for psychological well-being and even survival." He nodded, swallowing before adding quietly. "It seems reasonable at some point we'd talk about what we want for our futures."

Avery's eyes moved over the rows and rows of crowded shelves without seeing as she processed his response.

"Okay..." She said, a quiver of surprise still echoing in her voice. "Um... well, do you want the whole... family thing? Kids? Marriage? All that?"

Spencer tilted his head to the side, his gaze shifting away from her as he thought over his response. "I do. I don't know that I ever considered it a real possibility until I met Maeve, but... yeah, it's something I want."

He looked to her. "You?"

Avery jammed her balled fists into her jacket pocket, the way she did when she felt self-conscious and unsure of what to do with her hands.

"Uh... Yeah." She nodded. "Yeah, I guess when I imagine my future, I've always pictured kids..."

Spencer nodded. "Right."

"Right." Avery echoed, eager to change the subject. "Coffee?"

"Sounds great." Spencer tapped the children's book rapidly with his fingertips. "Just have to ring this up."

He turned, heading back toward the front of the shop, where the narrow cashier's desk stood. Avery breathed a silent sigh of relief, butterflies fluttering wildly in her stomach.


End file.
